


the worth of ashes

by kysolaris



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Fire Nation (Avatar), Fire Nation Royal Family, Gen, Introspection, Ozai (Avatar) Being a Terrible Parent, Ozai (Avatar) is an Asshole, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:22:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25316746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kysolaris/pseuds/kysolaris
Summary: Zuko stands behind the curtains of a war room, and hesitates.(In this world, he never hears of his father’s plans for Sozin’s Comet.)
Relationships: Azula & Zuko (Avatar), Iroh & Zuko (Avatar), Ozai & Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 19
Kudos: 145





	the worth of ashes

He wonders if it was worth it.

It has been weeks since the battle at the Catacombs, and yet he can still feel the static against his skin, the lightning from Azula’s fingertips, and the arch of the Avatar’s back as he falls. 

The visits with his uncle have produced nothing, thus far. They could have been heroes, _together_ , and go home to the Fire Nation just as Zuko had only dreamed of for the past years. And Iroh had thrown that away - for _what?_ To help the Avatar? And _abandon _Zuko?__

(He disregards how the palace no longer feels like home, how the lavish silks and mattresses are too smooth and too soft at night. How, if he closes his eyes, he sees the flash of lightning once more, sees the scars on the Earth peasants that are far too similar to his own. Zuko ignores the scents of ginseng and jasmine, and tries to push thoughts of long-ago words out of his mind.) 

The topknot feels foreign on his head. The ribbon is far too tight, and his world is awash in dark reds and golds. He is proclaimed as a hero - but he knows that it was Azula’s lightning that struck the Avatar. If he listens closely enough to the servants, he can hear their lingering proclamations of dishonor about the once-banished prince. 

The weeks pass, and yet he still almost startles when a servant calls him by his name, as if expecting the Dai Li to take him to their Lake, somewhere far beneath the ground where he could never feel the sun again. Zuko sends the assassin after the Avatar, paying no attention to the twinge of guilt that comes from the death of a child. 

_He is the enemy,_ he convinces himself. _Do you remember the massacre at the North Pole? He has no right to preach peace._

But the feeling stays - he is out of place, and even a brush to his skin makes him on edge. He _hates_ it. 

(He has his father’s love now, though, right? He’s regained his honor. He has everything he’s craved desperately, and he is _home._ This feeling of _wrongness_ must pass eventually.) 

Ember Island lacks the light that he remembers. Zuko… barely remembers his mother’s voice anymore. Her words are still clear, but his memory of her voice is so warped that he doesn’t think he could recognize it if he tried. He listens to Azula and Mai and Ty Lee, recalling the almost-fearful look in Ursa’s eyes as she looked at her daughter. _A monster,_ the palace had called her. _A prodigy._

The portrait burns. His unscarred face on the canvas has now been consumed by fire as well. 

Time passes once again. The days go by like grey sand falling through his fingers. The summer grows hotter, and the young turtleducks age quickly. 

He learns of his great-grandfathers’ legacies. The gold metal of the crown prince’s mantle settles in his hands. Zuko searches his uncle’s eyes for pity - he only sees deep sadness and a hint of hope. Zuko turns away. 

When he visits the portrait hall again, he is alone. The room is filled with the saturated inks and the lines of the former Firelords’ lavish robes. The smell of incense lingers. 

The servants offer him palanquins and sweet fruit. He denies all of it. Zuko wants to _beg,_ to ask _anyone_ what his role is and what choices he should make. Azula’s remarks are laced with poison - she lies, endlessly, and Zuko wonders if he has heard so many untruths that he lies to himself as well. He cannot bury realisations, because he has already locked away so many. 

His assassin has not sent word of the Avatar’s death, and Zuko pretends that he doesn’t feel relieved. Such feelings would be treasonous - his father’s love is cold compared to Ozai’s fire, but it is love, it is what he has always wanted, so it must be enough. This idyll at the palace is perfection. 

(And yet - it is too perfect. Zuko has been beaten down too many times to think that this will last forever.) 

But he does not leave. The desperate wanting for the Fire Nation is like a siren’s call - he can’t leave, he cannot just _discard_ all of this. It is his home, his destiny, his honor - he must be the perfect prince, even if it means hiding the parts of him that led to his scarring. 

_(The divergence comes.)_

He has a choice to make - and he chooses wrong. It is another crossroads, another decision with implications reaching too far to understand completely. 

He stands behind the curtains of a war room, before the eclipse that his _dear sister_ told his father of. His hand stills and his breath hitches, heart beating more rapidly. Azula said that his father was waiting for him to start the meeting, but he doubts. Zuko finds himself questioning, uncertain, like he is thirteen once again and seeking approval. He feels nauseous, the ground unsteady beneath him, and turns away. 

(In this world, he never hears of his father’s plans for Sozin’s Comet.) 

Zuko half-stumbles back to his room, choking out a message for the servant to deliver, frustration arising but with no outlet to express it. He cannot scream at storm clouds in the palace, cannot beg for lightning to strike him down. 

There is a part of him that wants to run to his uncle. To ask him if the Fire Nation is right in their March - but Zuko doesn’t know if he can face him. 

The eclipse arrives. He can hear the screaming and the rumbling of the earth as troops emerge. He is powerless now - the sun’s warmth is drained away and he wonders if this is what it feels like to be a war prisoner, kept from Agni. 

(In another world, he would have faced his father, shouted all of his realisations for the Fire Lord to hear. In this one, he stays - waits too long, doesn’t make his choice soon enough, does not hear the suggestions of his sister to burn the Earth Kingdom to the ground - he does not know that hope will be crushed like jasmines beneath his father’s heel.) 

Zuko does not leave, now. He is uncertain for a _moment_ longer - but that is enough. He hears the whispers of his sister’s victory. Anger forces its way to his throat, but there is no one to hear the half-strangled scream as the guards tell him that his uncle tried to escape. 

(In this world, Ozai is not preoccupied by his son’s declarations. Iroh is found soon enough, chi-blocked and forced him to kneel before a younger brother he once thought he knew. But the monster’s face is twisted in cruel amusement at his bowed head.) 

Uncle is kept in a cell where none but the Fire Lord can see him. Without Iroh’s words, Zuko feels an emptiness that he doesn’t know how to fill. Meditation does not give him any answers - he only hears the echoes of his mother, and feels the texture of the carvings on his blade beneath his fingers. 

His assassin has vanished. Zuko doesn’t mourn - he pays his quiet respects and breathes in the night air, wondering when he started hoping the Avatar was alive. He knows he can lose his status, his honor, the approval of his father - but the complaint rings hollow in his mind. 

The days count down to Sozin’s Comet. Ozai is ruthless; even the slightest disobedience warrants punishment. Zuko tries not to flinch away as he stands at his father’s right side, the perfect image of all that a crown prince should be. There are citizens of Ba Sing Se here; they are dragged before the Fire Lord, plead or spit in his face, and there is dawning familiarity in their expressions as they stare at Zuko before their deaths. He swallows the guilt and forces himself not to speak out. 

Iroh is to be executed on the eve of Sozin’s Comet. Zuko’s nails dig into his palms so hard that they draw blood. 

_He left you,_ one part of his mind says. _He values the Avatar more than he values you._

Zuko knows it isn’t the truth. But knowing is not enough to rush towards his uncle to save him. Smoke curls from his fists, but as he takes a step forward, a protest lodged in his throat, Azula’s nails dig into his arm. He lets out a cry that only his sister hears as Iroh’s execution commences. The sky is painted in dark red and soot-grey. Uncle is silent, but his eyes lock on Zuko’s and he turns away - he has only felt this helpless twice before. 

The Dragon of the West falls. 

(In this world, there is no loving embrace for Zuko to return to. There is no reunion, no forgiveness, no path to rejoin.) 

Zuko destroys his room, his robes, and his wing of the palace with what little fire bursts from his palms. One of his eyes can barely produce tears, and his lungs ache from screaming. His words are hoarse, now. 

He knows whose fault it is. Is his father’s approval worth everything else? 

_No,_ he realises. _It isn’t._

Ozai declares himself Phoenix King. Mai and Ty Lee follow behind Azula, whose expression is unhinged and filled with twisted emotion. He looks upon Zuko with disdain, robes of grandeur lining his body. The title of Fire Lord falls to Zuko, now - the eldest, the crown prince who ‘regained his honor.’ 

The title feels like a mockery. He knows he is powerless, compared to his father. How the fire within him will always belong to Ozai, as if Zuko is a possession, a mere tool for his father to use and discard. 

The Phoenix King leaves. The airships take to the sky, and Zuko understands all too late what his father plans to do. The Earth Kingdom will die tonight - the cities will be razed to the ground until nothing remains but scorched dirt. 

Zuko makes his choice. But his crossroads have passed, and there is nothing he can do now, even if he turns against the nation. 

As he is crowned, Azula enters, challenging him in that wretchedly vicious way of hers. 

(In another world, it would be Zuko who interrupted his sister’s coronation. But fate is cruel.) 

Azula’s anger is cold fire, a pit of coals and vipers. He reaches within himself, only to find that even with all the power of the comet at his fingertips, without his own fury, he is left with only tendrils of smoke. 

(In this world, his body has not learned the Dancing Dragon. His hands have not carried the Eternal Flame. He is _weak,_ and he will lose.) 

His sister’s fire burns his skin, and there is a crazed look in her eyes. He tries to be angry at her - but all Zuko feels is pity, and regret. Bursts of blue light up the sky, and the rooftops are set ablaze with her anger. Azula has not broken yet, no, but she is close to shattering. 

She screams at him - Zuko cannot respond. He is weighed down with grief and anguish, and his throat is still raw. He tries to dodge the flames even as the skin on his arms blisters and smoke fills his lungs. That is all he can do, now. 

The lightning comes at him, bright and static and ruthless, and he remembers the arch of the Avatar’s back in the Catacombs. Zuko redirects the lightning - but he redirects it through the path in his heart, and he collapses. The pain is near unbearable - how ironic that the most agony inflicted on him has been by those he called family. 

He is close to death when Mai interferes. She and Ty Lee split the air with the whistling of metal blades and Azula’s shriek as Ty Lee’s fingers hit her back. The gold of the crown rests atop his sister’s head - they are chained with cold metal and she orders them to be sent to the darkest prisons in the nation. 

Zuko can pinpoint the moment that Azula _shatters._

He tastes the sun one last time as they walk him beneath the earth. The whispers of the guards tell him that the Avatar has been killed, truly, this time. That the remains of a mere child now rest among the soil of the Earth. Ba Sing Se stands under the Phoenix King’s flag, and the Dai Li obey his every command. The Earth Kingdom has been reduced to rubble now. Gaoling and Omashu are littered with the trophies of the Fire Nation’s victory, littered with the bodies of innocents. 

(In another world, there would be peace. The Dragon of the West would liberate the Impenetrable City, the Avatar would defeat the Phoenix King, and ‘Fire Lord’ would not be a puppet’s title.) 

(In this world, the war still ends. But it ends with a tyrant on the throne and his subjects in ashes.) 

It wasn’t worth it, in the end. 

**Author's Note:**

> Er - this is pretty much one of my first fanfictions - please be polite! ^_^ I accept constructive criticism, but I would appreciate it if you'd word it kindly. Any resemblance to other works is completely unintentional!


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